


the ones that can swallow you whole

by pocky_slash



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Established Relationship, M/M, Ocean, Post-Canon, Reunions, Timed Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles thinks it should be meaningful or ironic that their first meeting since Cuba is once again on the shore of the ocean, but everything is so different that his mind can't draw the comparison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the ones that can swallow you whole

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **writing chat thingy** for the prompt "write about the sea." The original draft was done in fifteen minutes. This one has been cleaned up and extended slightly. Title from Dar Williams' "The Ocean." (No one is surprised.)

Erik chooses the first meeting place. The address arrives by regular post, a postcard addressed to Charles in Erik's distinctive handwriting. It's a cabin in Washington, not far from the Pacific. Charles thinks it should be meaningful or ironic that they're once again on the shore of the ocean, but everything is so different that his mind can't draw the comparison. That day is a blur in his mind, the colors oversaturated, the light overbright. Parts of it remain clear, like the pain of the bullet and the way his heart broke when he first saw Erik come out in the helmet, but much of it is a murky smudge of brilliant colors and rapid-fire images over the smell of salt.

The colors are muted in Washington. A fog is clinging to the remains of the day, but beneath it the edges are crisp and solid and real. Even the air smells different, the sea taking on a different scent as it mixes with the earth and the trees, as it smashes on the rocks instead of perfect golden sand.

He sits on the porch of the rented cabin and closes his eyes. He can reach out and out and out and find Erik, his mind a flash of color amidst the dull grey of the rest of the world. He follows it all the way from the airport, slowly, slowly up the highway and through the twisted roads. He's good at this, now, better than he was the last time they saw each other. He spends a lot of time on his own, these days. There are worse ways to spend that time than training.

He follows Erik up the hill and down the driveway, eyes closed the whole time. He follows Erik through the front door and through the house and then he can hear the screen rattling in the back door at the same time that he can feel Erik's hand pushing it outward. He opens his eyes when Erik steps outside.

"Feeling nostalgic?" Charles asks, but he tries to smile as he says it. He doesn't mean the words to sting. At least, he doesn't think he means it. He's still not sure why he's here, except that he still loves Erik more than he can ever imagine loving anyone else and he's not strong enough to say no to something he wants so badly.

"No," Erik says. He's dressed in a turtleneck and slacks. He looks older. He looks sad. "The opposite, really. I wanted to get as far from that as I could."

He doesn't approach Charles and Charles does nothing to invite the movement. He can feel Erik's eyes on him and he tries not to mentally catalogue his own faults. He tries not to see himself from Erik's eyes, because he knows he won't like that picture.

"I think about you every day," Erik says.

"I'm not a teenage girl," Charles says. His voice trembles. "What is that supposed to mean? What good does that do me if you're wearing that helmet? Is it supposed to make me feel better?"

"No," Erik says. "I don't--It's the truth. I just thought I'd...tell you. I thought--"

He looks away.

"You left me," Charles says.

"I did," Erik agrees. "Charles, I had to."

"You didn't!" Charles snaps, and it's too close to a sob, too close to the anger he didn't want to bring out today. He closes his eyes and gathers himself together. His mind touches Erik and the couple at the next cabin a mile away. He touches the family in the sedan on the highway and the old man walking his dog by the rocks and the two young men camping in the woods. He feels them and then he returns to his own head and he tidies up the things inside.

When he opens his eyes, Erik is watching him warily.

"I don't want to talk about this," he says. Erik nods.

"Then what do you want?" Erik asks.

Charles bites his lip. The question is huge and loaded and vague. There should be a million things he can say, dozens of things he can demand, but even then he knows he only has one answer.

"I want you to come here," Charles says. "I want you to touch me. I want to kiss you."

Selfish, but the truth. The answer to all of it. The horrible answer to everything. He wants the world to go away. He wants to exist in a place that's just the two of them, somewhere there's no war, no in-fighting, no school, no humans, no other mutants. He wants Erik, and damn everything else.

If this is all he can have, he'll take it. He hoard it greedily while he can and die inside waiting for more.

Erik crosses the space between them, his boots shuffling against the wooden planks of the deck. He kneels in front of Charles' chair and puts his hands where Charles can no longer feel them. Charles doesn't have the heart to correct him and it doesn't matter once he leans forward and kisses Erik, their lips sliding together easily despite the lost time and pain and betrayals, their past melting away into the fog and the smell of earth and salt.


End file.
